


i love it when you look my way

by Ethereally



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ambiguous Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Bathing/Washing, F/F, Hair Washing, Ingrid Learns What Conditioner Is, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), non-sexual nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 12:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24849514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereally/pseuds/Ethereally
Summary: “Is that... Are you shampooing yourself twice?”“Nope,” Annette says. “It’s my conditioner.”“C... Conditioner?”“Wait, you don’t know what conditioner is?”Ingrid and Annette take some time to relax in the middle of the war.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	i love it when you look my way

Water washes down on Annette, pouring through her red tresses and coating her in a layer of warmth. She’s always enjoyed her showers hotter than is healthy, the water a little too close to scalding; Annette hums a soft tune as she scrubs lavender soap across her skin. At the School of Sorcery she rarely had the time or energy to take a bath. Showers had become her time to decompress, her racing thoughts calmed by the sound of water drenching her, her worries swirling with the dirt and grime and washing far, far away. 

This hasn’t changed during wartime, especially with the knowledge that she could be dragged into battle at any moment-- at least, in the shower, she’s almost always guaranteed peace. Annette’s just begun to massage tea tree shampoo into her hair when she’s interrupted by the sound of someone rapping on the shower door. Ingrid’s firm, gentle voice rings above the sound of running water. 

“Mind if I join you?”

Annette pushes the door open, greeting her girlfriend with a small smile. “Of course,” she sings, beckoning for Ingrid to join in. Ingrid drops the towel around her and places it next to Annette’s on the sink. She steps into the shower, and Annette leans up to press a soft kiss on her lips; Ingrid returns it with a quick peck on Annette’s cheek. Annette beams back at her, shifting slightly so that Ingrid can enjoy the water, and sighs in relief when Ingrid arches her face towards the heat. She reaches to the soap dish to grab the soap and a spare bath lily, scrubbing the little lavender bar against the sponge.

“I’m glad you don’t think it’s too hot. Mercedes always used to say I looked like a lobster when I got out of the shower.”

“I like lobsters,” Ingrid murmurs, and Annette knows her well enough by now to take this as a compliment. She gestures for Ingrid to turn around, rubbing circles into her girlfriend’s back, watching as the suds and lavender cover Ingrid’s scars like a healing salve. Annette’s charted the marks on Ingrid enough times that she knows them all by heart, but she can’t help but trace the lines of each and every wound, peppering the deepest marks with an occasional kiss. Ingrid’s hardly the type to be self-conscious about her scars, wearing them proudly as trophies from battle, marks from protecting her friends and King. No, it’s _Annette_ who could do with some reassurance; and this might be terribly selfish of her, but perhaps if she shows Ingrid what she wants for herself, she might offer her the same comfort, too. Ingrid laces her fingers into Annette’s spare hand, gently taking the bath lily from her and bumping their noses together. 

“I can handle myself,” she says. “I hope I didn’t interrupt you while you washed your hair?”

Oh right, her hair. Annette giggles at the reminder, running a hand through her orange locks and letting out a sheepish little laugh. “It’s fine,” she says, “I’m fine.” Normally, she might have been embarrassed by the reminder of her absent-minded nature, but this is Ingrid. Ingrid, who so rarely speaks with the intent of being unkind, whose life’s mission is to protect their King then to defend their world. A tiny, selfish part of Annette will always wish that Ingrid might put Annette first some day, might come to cherish her more than she does her mission, but Annettee knows this isn’t a question now that they’re at war. 

She’ll just have to trust that Ingrid won’t hurt her in the process. 

Annette raises her hands to her head, brushing suds out of her hair. Ingrid’s been under the shower head for a good part of the last few minutes, and Annette ducks under the water, relishing the sensation of the warm fluid pouring down her hair and face. Her back and neck feel cold and exposed in the unheated bathrooms of Garreg Mach, but it’s worth it to be here with Ingrid: to know that someone might want to be here with her. She pulls away from the water, and Ingrid frowns.

“You didn’t have to let me join you if you’d be shivering the whole time--”

“But I wanted to,” Annette interjects, picking up a bottle of conditioner from the bathroom floor. “I-- I thought it might be nice if we could. Shower together.” 

“Annette,” Ingrid whispers, grasping both her hands and pulling her closer, “You’re too sweet.” Annette laughs, squeezing some of the conditioner out from the bottle, inhaling the scent of jasmine and bergamot. She begins to work the pale yellow salve into her hair, starting with her split ends, slowly massaging it upwards to her ears then to her scalp. Ingrid wrinkles her nose, squinting in Annette’s direction. 

“Is that... Are you shampooing yourself twice?”

“Nope,” Annette says. “It’s my conditioner.”

“C... Conditioner?”

“Wait, you don’t know what conditioner is?”

The words slip out before Annette has time to truly process them. She covers her mouth with her hands, blinking back at Ingrid in utter embarrassment. Now Annette’s gone and done it. Ingrid’s going to storm out of the shower, enraged and insulted, and Annette will need to spend the rest of the evening making it up.

Or perhaps not. 

Her girlfriend frowns, bending over to pick up the bottle. Annette bites her lip, watching Ingrid as she unscrews the vial, lifting it to her nose and giving it a little sniff. She doesn’t seem to be too upset; that’s a relief. Annette sighs, rubbing her temples. She should really have thought to be more sensitive, considering that Ingrid had never been interested in self-care or anything remotely feminine. 

Annette thinks of the makeup kit she’d given Ingrid five years ago, tucked away unused at the bottom of Ingrid’s trunk. _Why keep something that you don’t use,_ Annette whispered the first time Ingrid had brought it up, peppering the side of her new lover’s face with kisses. _Isn’t it just taking up space?_ At the time, Ingrid had shaken her head, pulling Annette in closer and kissing her back. 

Yet a few nights later, Annette and Ingrid were lying side-to-side in a tent on the ground. Their backs were pressed against each other’s, Annette shifting and turning uncomfortably, trying her best to not think about having to spill her former classmates’ blood come morning. And that was when Ingrid had grabbed Annette’s shoulders to tell her the truth: Glenn’s letters to her still lay in a yellowed heap in her childhood bedroom. Ingrid could lose Annette at any time. The last thing she wanted was to throw the very first gift from her out. 

“I’m sorry,” she’d sputtered at the time. “It was very kind of you, and I wish I had more use for it... But I’m not sure if that’s me,” Ingrid had said. “Though sometimes, I don’t even know who ‘me’ is any more.”

And that’s led the two of them here, drenching themselves in warm water. Annette takes a deep breath, steadying herself. Ingrid’s hardly going to flip out on her for asking about the conditioner; the two of them have bigger things to worry about than Ingrid’s self-care routine. Chances are, Ingrid’s too busy thinking of their next battle, or their next meal to take Annette’s previous statement seriously. Annette swallows the lump in her throat.

“Do you... Would you like to give it a try? It makes your hair soft,” she says, “You can touch mine and see.” 

Cautiously, Ingrid sniffs the conditioner again. She sets the bottle down, reaching out to run a hand through Annette’s hair. Come to think of it, Annette isn’t entirely certain whether Ingrid might feel the effects while her hair is so damp, but it feels nice to have Ingrid touch her. The novelty of it isn’t lost, even months into their relationship. She beams.

“You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to,” Annette says. “But you can use any of my products whenever you want.” 

“Maybe someday,” Ingrid says. She leans in to give Annette another kiss on the forehead. “I like the idea of you helping to wash my hair.”

Annette nods back. “I like that idea too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks [j](https://twitter.com/jireemblem) for proofreading this and for being responsible for these annegrid brainworms
> 
> i'm on twitter @ [gautired](https://twitter.com/gautired). feel free to [rt](https://twitter.com/gautired/status/1274856980570505216) this fic if you liked it!


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